Stranger,
I hope you’ll understand it when it’s over
When we meet, I’ll smile,
You’ll smile
And we’ll want it to happen again.
We have both been pretty lonely lately,
I can tell it already.
And it will happen many more times,
I’ll make sure of that.
And we’ll laugh together– you more honestly than me–
But me too.
And if it gets bad enough,
You’ll fall for me.
But
When you touch me,
It will not be in that perfect spot
(hand gripping my entire forearm, index finger rubbing back and forth slightly)
And when I touch you,
it won’t be in your perfect spot either.
And you won’t know when
To tickle me, and when to leave me be.
When you come over,
I’ll piss with the door closed,
I’ll wonder whether you really don’t want another drink or not.
Because maybe, you’re just saying “no.” for my sake.
I’ll run the risk of telling you the same story twice.
Because each word I get to speak to you,
Will not be savored, stolen, or solid in my mind.
I’ll use you.
And it will get to those
terrible three words.
That one carnivorous lie.
I love you.
And it will be said
with such hollow-falling dissemblance.
Those three words,
I once swore to a shadow,
Long long ago.
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